Thursday, March 26, 2009

"Bland," pronounced the 3 year old, on my homemade chicken noodle soup."Delicious," countered the other."I vote with the girl," said I.

Food critics. Unfortunately, I don't mean the little voice in my head that tells me that by now I really should recognize when something could use a dash of cumin or a pinch of ginger. I mean the little people who reside with me, unabashedly critiquing my culinary creations.

Bland. Seriously. As in, "I don't want to eat this soup. It is bland to me." As in "I don't care that you keep putting this same bowl of bland soup in front of me, promising me I won't get another bite to eat in this house until it is gone. It's too bland." When I asked him what bland meant, he said, "It tastes too yucky to me." Well. It's not my fault that you added about 50 saltines. Two meals ago.

My kids have also begun declaring themselves "allergic" to things. Just for fun. Like bread. They love bread, so I'm not sure why they say "It makes my throat all itchy and close up." (which is what happens when I eat fish). For some reason it's just fun to categorize yourself as "allergic" to things, I guess.

Sammy did say that he like to eat fat. Why? "It tastes good and it's all squishy."

So. Gross.

My little chef's specialties? Things like chocolate milk with orange juice. J and I watch in concerned disgust as they down their creations. They also use up our toiletries as they concoct plenty of potions in the bathroom. I don't think they eat those, though. Natural consequences would surely be an effective teacher there.

However, to their credit, they are some of the least picky kids I know and (aside from Sammy and the chicken noodle soup and "bananas with decay") will gobble up almost anything I put in front of them, especially healthy food. This Friday is "Russia" Night, so we'll see how they do with Cabbage Rolls and Tea Cakes. I'll let you know how it goes.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

I am going through all of my Christmas decorations, repacking things. Space constraints requires it. Part of why it is taking so very, very long to get settled. :)

Anyway, I am repacking all of my ornaments, many of which are from you--from our annual Christmas party ornament exchange. Sweet memories come flooding back--and I remember who each of these is from. And the craziness that went along with it. I'm actually a little teary.

Thank you, thank you for such fun memories and sweet friendships, you darling sisters in St. Louis. I love you.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

In fact, I'm pretty sure that I must phase in and out of visibility. I'm trying to figure it out. It might be like our TV. After 8 1/2 years of marriage, we still have the same 19" TV we started with. True story. Anyone who's come over and watched a movie at our house will testify. They probably still have the squint wrinkles by their eyes. Anyway. When we try to watch a DVD, the picture will periodically go in and out. So will the sound, but not always at the same time. We all take turns wiggling the yellow and white cords. Even the kids know how to do it. I know, I know--we should just spring for a new TV. That isn't the point.

I think I might be like that TV. Sometimes they see me, but the sound is off. They can see my mouth moving, but they can't actually hear the words "Please stop making 'potions' out of my fancy soap."

Sometimes they can't even see me. Like when Sam Sam is sliding down the stairs, ruining my new carpet. I can stand there and tell him not to. The reply? "I'm not." Clearly he cannot see me watching him. I can tell Girlie that beds are not trampolines or that climbing on top of the Barbie house could result in crashing through the window to a horrible death in the beautiful backyard landscaping. She is unfazed.

I was perplexed. Then, ta-da, I figured out this TV analogy and realized that it might not be their fault at all--I might be invisible. In fact, I have proof. Look through our photo albums sometime. I am only in about 2% of the pictures. Otherwise, no trace of me, except that the kids' clothes are coordinated. I swear I was there on vacations, trips to the zoo, park, pumpkin patch. However, since I am part time InvisiGirl, I don't actually show up most of the time.

They are not to blame after all. Mystery solved.

PS: To be fair, J is Part Time InvisiBoy, too. His time just happens to be at night, when any potty issue, bad dream, or teething baby comes directly to my side of the bed. Go figure.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Five things my kids don't know:1. You can ask for things for Christmas2. People put toppings on plain oatmeal3. White bread is not so rare4. There is stuff on TV on weekends5. I actually CAN hear them if they don't say please

Five things they need to learn:1. "Hey, I don't want to hear it" is not appropriate coming from a 3 year old mouth2. "Because I asked you to" is an acceptable answer3. Constant sliding down the stairs will eventually ruin my carpet. And it is mine.4. When I say "Don't play with water" I mean "DON'T. PLAY. WITH. WATER."5. We don't do kung fu on each other. We just don't.

Five things I need to unlearn:1. Using my "mad voice" gets results and prevents me from having to actually get mad.2. A cookie can kickstart my day quite nicely.3. Whatever bad habits precede this conversation: "Come on, let's clean up." "Who's coming over?"4. Eating toasted coconut marshmallows straight out of the bag. Try them.5. Cheating at games to make them go faster (let's face it--Chutes and Ladders can go on, and on, and on). Don't worry, I cheat so they win.

Five fun things about life here:1. My butcher's name is Stanley. That's right, my butcher.2. The ATMs here talk. And have British accents.3. Everyone here but me eats organic everything and vacations in Maui.3. People carry coffee cups everywhere, even in the produce department at Fred Meyer. 5. Sometimes even the little kids of the coffee-carrying moms in Fred Meyer have their own coffee cups. Probably filled with hot chocolate. Hopefully.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

I'm giving a talk about gratitude on Sunday and I'm trying to find a couple poems. I don't know where I heard them (I think in church).

One is about someone who only had ...three(?) hairs and said, Oh, good, I can braid my hair today. The next day they had only two hairs and said, "Oh, good, I can wear ponytails today". And so on.

The other is something to the effect of "Be grateful that you had a great day. If you didn't have a great day, be grateful that you're not sick. If you're sick, be grateful that you're still alive. If you died, be grateful you're in a better place". But, cuter than that.

My friend Brandi emailed me an awesome packet of family home evening plans for the entire year, based on the 2009 Primary theme. They would be great for talks too. I've been trying, unsuccessfully, to figure out how to link it to my blog. So, if you want me to email them to you, just leave your email address. It's an awesome resource. Thanks, Brandi!

Monday, March 2, 2009

Today I went to school in jammies. And by that, I mean, I drove Girlie to school. In my pajamas. To be fair, I did glance around for something a little more respectable, but nothing seemed to "come together" for me in those 10 seconds. And,in that same vein of fairness, my jammies do look like a long sleeved grey t-shirt paired with same-grey yoga pants. And I did pair the ensemble with very Northwestern-y boots and a vest.

But.

I think it was the no-make up and ponytail (granted, I do wear a ponytail almost every day--this was more the just-out-of-bed variety, as opposed to the stylishly-swept-across-my-forehead type) that pushed it over the edge.

The bar has been lowered, my friends. There was a time in my distant past that I would hot roll my hair every day, instead of a ponytail. A time where I would "schedule" my outfits in a planner, instead of scrambling to find something "less wrinkled." Beyond self-care, there was a semi-distant time, where I would take my child into the studio for monthly portraits, document smiles and sounds in daily journal entries, and fill up tape upon tape with the video camera. Now, I snap pictures, when the thought occurs to me, our video camera has been broken for several months now, and I have mental list of funny things my kids say that I will get around to writing down someday. During Girlie's mid-Winter break, it was almost 5:00 p.m. when someone knocked on my door and I realized, to my horror, my children and I were still in our 7:00 a.m. condition. Not good. Like, crazy circus not-good.

In return for Downgraded Me, I now spend my days covering my baby with kisses, snuggling in and reading to my kids, and trying to help my Small People grow into the wonderful Big People they will become.

About Me

I am thrilled to be the mommy of 4 beautiful kids and have been married to my sweetheart for 14 years. I'm also a recently 'retired' interior designer, and enjoy anything remotely creative. My four little ones I'll call Girlie (11), Sam-Sam the Wild Man (8 going on 15), Little Buddy (6), and Sweetie (4 adorable years).